


Love's Incipience

by sleepingseeker



Series: 2k14 AprilxDonnie [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014)
Genre: Blossoming Romance, F/M, Family, One Shot, Romance, ninja turtles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donatello is unsure about what is happening to him. He is a scientist and inventor. He isn't supposed to feel . . . things. Once the threshold of this rationale is breached, however, there is no going back. 4,600+ words</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Incipience

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little story to balance out all the Raphril going around. Heehee, not that I have a problem with it. But you know, I like AprilxDonnie, too.

* * *

Mikey hops along the passageway, babbling on and on about their last conversation with April.

"She totally digs that song. I could just see it in her eyes, bros! Can I pick 'em or what!?" He spins around, skipping and ducking Raph's swiping palm just in time.

"Will you knock it off? My head's killin' me."

"You just can't take the sound of Cupid's arrows hitting me." He grabs his chest and continues to shimmy backwards.

"Nah, dumbass. My head's killin' me 'cuz you had to go 'n blow up that old guy's car. Then I had to listen to your off-key caterwaulin' all the way back here."

Mikey throws his hands up as if blocking an assault from above. "Oh, there's so many arrows. They're blotting out the sun! It's so dark!"

Leo sighs and looks over his shoulder, curious as to why Donnie didn't point out the fact that they were underground and thus, no light. His brother is ambling along slightly behind them, goggles on, peering at the flickering screen projected by his wrist gear. Leo frowns as what he thinks is an image of April coming up only to seize and pixelate into rows of numbers once again.

"Donnie?" Leo asks as he slows, instantly becoming wary of what his brother is looking into. Decides to play it cool. But he has to ask, regardless. Because maybe something is wrong. The last thing he needs is another reason to regret ever allowing his brothers to go to the surface. Because of him, they had nearly lost everything. He promised himself he'd be more careful going forward. "Everything okay?"

Donatello's face jerks up. A surprised look is quickly swept away by a nervous smile. He switches off the gear and flips the goggles back over his head, replacing his glasses. He shifts his feet. "Uh, y-yeah, Leo." He follows Leo's curious glance at his wrist. "Oh, uh, just checking some readings. That's all."

He waves one hand through the air, dispelling any worry. The answer is vague enough, but not too much, he hopes. He watches Leo's face carefully as his older brother considers his answer. He feels as though Leo's looking for something else, something that's none of his business and Donatello keeps his face neutral.

He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders, and makes the equipment on his shell shift into a more comfortable position. If they didn't need him hacking into backdoors of storerooms full of supplies and food, disabling the security systems long enough for them to get what they need and get out, before reestablishing the systems' operations, he wouldn't lug the stuff around. But after forgetting it one too many times; having to hear about how he let everyone down; in particular, having to listen to how Mikey would've loved those creamy-deluxe-pocket-pies for two weeks after they'd come across a truck-full of the treats, but with a surprisingly complicated lock on the trailer, one he couldn't pick without his gear, it became easier on everyone to just have what he needed on hand.

"So," Leo asks slowly, still giving him that penetrating gaze. Asking the question by drawing out the first word, "Everything's good?"

"All good," Donatello replies with an eager nod too quickly and remains in place as Leo dips his chin and turns, seemingly satisfied, following after Raph and Mikey, who is still going on and on about how his taste in music is tuned exactly towards what girls like best despite increasingly violent threats from Raph.

Donatello closes his eyes. He huffs, then looks down; pressing a few buttons, her image pops up. Flickering blue between bursts of jumping static before reasserting itself once more. His eyes, watering from the brightness of the display in the dark tunnel, takes in the curve of her cheek, the lines of her eyes, her mouth. He tilts his head slightly.

"April," he murmurs.

He thinks of her bravery earlier, of her quick thinking, of her face as she ran up to the glass enclosure and how it made him feel to see her in what he thought was his last moments. Like he was getting a glimpse of an angel before walking through those pearly gates. He gasps, feeling his heartbeat jangle in an irregular pattern. One hand flies to his chest as he blinks. What's happening to him? Beneath his palm, his heart is racing. He glances again at the ethereal picture. As insubstantial as his chances with April O'Neil.

His lips press into a firm line. He switches off the display. "What am I doing?" he asks the bricks around him. Someone like that? Even under the best of circumstances, heck, even if he were fully and completely  _human_ , he knows there'd be no way, no possibility however miniscule, that someone like that would even give him a second glance. His shoulders slump.

_Get a grip, Donnie-boy. Girls like her and guys like me are utterly incompatible. Like silver acetylene and oxalic acid!_

"Yo, Donnie! Hurry your ass up! It's your turn ta make dinner and I'm starved!"

Now that the injection he formulated with the mutagen had healed the majority of the wounds Master Splinter had sustained, things were going back to normal. Well, mostly normal. He blows out a breath, drops his arms. He gives himself another shake and with a skip, rushes to catch up to his brothers. Each step pounding away his burgeoning curiosity, his pointless attraction, grinding his heels into the ground as he mashes the pathetic hope that sprung so unexpectedly within his heart. He chastises himself for being foolish.

"I'm a scientist. I'm not supposed to feel . . . things," he tries to convince himself as he rounds the corner on their new make-shift home. The move had been rushed and there were still a lot of things they'd need to bring over, but for now, it would work. The scent of smoke reaches him and he starts.

"Leo!"

Raph's angry voice has Donnie running across the piles of their belongings, vaulting over water splotched boxes over-stuffed with video games, books and blankets. Raph is hovering over Leo who is crouched next to something smoking. Donnie's face drops. Their hot plate!

"Why'd you do that for!?"

Leo narrows his eyes at Raph. "It's not like I meant to! I just plugged it in!" he hollers.

"Leo, I explained this to you. I haven't gotten all the wiring completely hooked up in here yet."

Leo gives him a sheepish look, then all three gaze sadly down at the smoking plate. The room fills with a dried stench that burns their nostrils and makes their eyes water.

"Mm, something smells good!" Mikey sings and stops short when he meets his brothers' hang-dog expressions. "Whoa. Whatever happened, it wasn't me," he says and puts his hands up.

"So much for a hot meal," Raph grouches and shoves past Donnie and Mikey.

"Wait, what did he say about dinner?" Mikey asks, lost. He spins and follows Raph close on his heels. "What about dinner? Aren't we gonna have dinner? I thought Donnie was making dinner tonight! I thought that's what I was just smelling! Hey! It smells good to me! Like toast and, uh, is that . . . what is that? Fish?"

"Oh my achin' skull. Shut up already, Mikey!"

Leo stands up and yanks the sputtering plug from the socket as Donnie ducks, hands out, saying, "N-No! Leo, don't!"

They get sprayed with sparks and the two of them jump back. Leo shakes his hand, feeling the vibrating pang of the mild electrical shock vibrating up into his elbow.

"Dammit!" If Leo could look any guiltier, Donatello wouldn't bet on it. "'M sorry," he mumbles, brushing bits of tiny charred debris from his arms and chest. He hands the smoking hot plate to Donnie who takes it with a nod.

"So, about dinner?" Leo asks and it's all Donnie can do to stop himself from cracking Leo's skull with his bo.

"Hey, I know!" Mikey is hanging off the back of their couch so that the front end is tipping from his weight. "My Angelcakes can save the day!"

Donatello rushes to say, "N-No, I don't think that's a good idea." Everyone stops and looks at him. "She's probably just getting back home," Donnie explains. "We can't expect to just call her and ask her to go get us sustenance in the middle of the night –"

But his words are cut off by Mikey's voice, "Yeah, sounds great. Oh, sugar you da best!"

Donnie's mouth drops. "What did you just do?" he asks hoarsely as he stomps across the room to grab the phone from Mikey's cheek. He brings it up to his head and asks, "April? Listen, forget about whatever Mikey just asked. April? April are you still connected?"

Mikey grins up at him and just manages to duck as Donnie moves to clock him with the receiver. He yips and bolts, running smack into Raph who catches him and locks him instantly in a head lock. Mikey screams for all he's worth.

"Don't kill me," Mikey croaks. "I'm a growing boy and need my nutrients!"

If Donnie wasn't so pissed at Mikey's total lack of tact, he'd be impressed with his brother's use of proper terminology. But he is fuming. Before he can say anything else, Leonardo comes back into the space temporarily serving as a living room.

"Will you guys keep it down, Master Splinter is trying to sleep." Leo looks from Donnie's livid expression to Mikey squirming to get loose from Raphael who is studying his nails on one hand while keeping Mikey locked securely in place with one bulging bicep. "What happened," Leo asks.

"I asked April for a teeny favor," Mikey quips, out of breath.

"She's bringing dinner," Raph mentions causally.

Leo crosses his arms and drops his face into his hand. The sound of his stomach growling has him raising his head. He shrugs. "I guess it's alright . . . as long as she doesn't mind coming out." He rubs his stomach and gives Raph a half-smile.

Donnie shoots Mikey one last glare before giving Raph and Leo an equally searing glance. He storms by the three of them, wishing not for the first time that there was a more than a single brain cell shared between his brothers.

**ooooooooooooo**

He steps inside his makeshift lab and workstation, an alcove set in the furthest part of the spacious abandoned subway station they'd invaded. A perfect spot that he called as his when they first found this new location; a much needed private space from his brothers; away from the cramped bedroom, and the noisy living room and kitchen area. With the closing of the door, even Mikey's voice drops to a muted background noise, easy enough to acclimate to, just as is the roaring subway trains not too far above where they squat.

He drops the ruined hot plate into the mess of kitchen equipment awaiting repair with a sigh. It joins the toaster, a panini press that Mikey had scavenged and then tried to make some monstrosity of peanut butter and sardine s'mores with for some unknown reason, and a pair of blenders that Raph destroyed trying to come up with unique protein shake formulas. He eyes the pile and shakes his head. His to-do list continues to grow. It's more of a never-ending assembly line of tasks that would make even Sisyphus weep.

He turns his back on the pile, as though denying its silent demands on him. He strips himself of the bulky gear, the heavy equipment and unstraps the solar powered plating from his belt. He sets it aside the crates full of partially rebuilt computers on the floor. He snaps his goggles from his head and unlatches the belts along his forearm, shaking it gently until the electronic-laden cuff slides off onto his desk; joining the pile of tools and gear on his desk; pieces he's currently upgrading, repairing or just toying with. He slumps into his chair and wheels it back, feeling relieved to have his shell free. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, rubbing at the knots there.

He brings up the power on his modified lap top and after a few minutes, the screen winks on, flickers and stabilizes. His breath hitches as April's face fills the screen. He glances over his shoulder to see if he's still alone. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, remembering now that the last time he'd been on here was to locate her address and had collected a few shots of her news broadcast in a mosaic. He remembers that his eye had caught one particularly lovely shot of her.

She is outside, standing in front of a waterfall inside the Catskill National Forest just outside of New York City, doing a fluff piece on the upcoming camping season and the best places to unwind and get away from the city. He'd watched the broadcast and recalled that she is standing near the Kaaterskill Falls, the highest cascading waterfall in the state. In the frozen still, her auburn hair is damp and clinging to the sides of her dew-kissed face. Her body turned three-quarters away from the camera, but her face is trained on the camera. A soft smile runs across her mouth and one brow is cocked playfully as she points out the natural beauty of the falls.

His heart is doing that strange half-beat and skip again as he looks at her face. Taking in her relaxed, nearly content expression, the natural beauty of the falls and trees and sky behind her only serving as a mediocre backdrop to her glowing loveliness. He finds himself drawn again and again to her eyes. Safe to look directly into them unlike when in person; when every time he made eye contact, he felt his face burn and his chest constrict and could not hold her intense gaze for longer than a second. Here the sapphire of her eyes stands out, framed by the dark locks and Donnie can see a drop of rain clinging to one long lash. Not realizing what he is doing, he reaches out to the screen to wipe it away.

"Hey," she greets him from the door and Donatello jumps back so violently that the chair tips.

The weight of his shell and the propulsion of his fright has him tumbling back. His feet fly over his head as he careens backwards and ends up sprawled on the floor. There is not enough space for his long legs and his knees bang hard against the wall and several crates get knocked aside, spilling their contents over the floor. He grimaces and scrambles to get to his knees, face burning as her laughter drifts over him. He can't look at her so he keeps his gaze locked on his lap as he rights himself. He wants only to fall through the floor and disappear.

"That was spectacular," she says, chuckling and wipes one eye. She tilts her head. "Are you okay?"

Automatically, "Yes. Nothing damaged. I'm fine."

Mortified, disgraced, humiliated, more like it. Some ninja. He can't risk a glance up at her, decides to remain in place until she goes to join his brothers out in the living room. If he's quiet and still, she's bound to become bored and leave him to his abasement. He keeps his head down and from the periphery of his vision sees her approaching. He stiffens. His eyes dart about for an escape.

"Look at all this stuff," she says as she crouches next to him. She begins rummaging through the various tubing, tiny screws, circuits, lenses, batteries and partially deconstructed motors.

He fights the urge to tell her to stop. These things seemed like nothing, but they were everything to him. Preciously scavenged and hoarded. But then decides that the only one this stuff is important to, is him. If he makes a big deal out of it, she'll only think him that much more of a lame geek.

"Yeah, it's a lot of junk," he laughs nervously and hesitantly looks up to gauge her reaction. Her attention is on the mess in front of her though and he continues to look.  _Oh god, she's really so pretty,_  he thinks, mouth going dry.  _What is she even doing in here? Surrounded by my garbage._

"Junk? You call a digital signal processor chip  _junk_?" She picks up a small chip and then sets it aside, still rummaging through the pile with slender fingers and a hungry look. "What is . . . oh, a math coprocessor. Hey, look at this!" She exclaims and holds up the modified micro parallax rangefinder he'd forgotten he was toying with building before the move. She turns it slowly over in her hands, fingertips roving over the dials and knobs; devouring the unit with her eyes, frowning softly and glancing up at him for explanation.

Donatello blinks, unsure that he just heard her correctly. The look on his face must have been one of incredulity because her face drops. A shadow passes over it. She clears her throat and sets down the delicate electronic device. With a quick motion, she swipes a lock of hair behind her ear. Folds her arms and sits back onto her heels roughly.

Donatello suddenly feels an invisible, but very solid wall go up between them and has no idea what just happened. He opens his mouth to apologize, to explain, to ask her if she'd like to try out his rangefinder, anything to bring back that glow of excitement she'd just had, that fragile connection he'd felt forming between them before he'd somehow screwed everything up. Which is, more than inventing, tinkering and experimenting, what he is best at.

Before he can make things worse, which he is sure he is about to do, Mikey's head pops into the room. He casts about, searching, then brightens when his gaze falls on her.

"That's where she is! April, why are you on this dusty dirty floor. Don't you know this is where Donnie keeps all his weird techno-crap and," he glances around with a scrunched up face and wiggles his fingers, "bizarre-o specimens."

April stands up and immediately Donatello does, too. He fidgets and straightens his belt, pulls on the back of his mask and adjusts his enormous glasses. Feels the weight of them on his face like a brand. Looks down and folds his arms, wishing suddenly with a pang for his equipment to be strapped back on, to have the belts and gear to hide behind. A shield from scrutiny. He's too exposed like this.

It's no secret how his brothers see him. The weird one. The geek. Mad scientist. Usually he is keen to adopt some of these monikers, if anything he likes being thought of as a sort of an avant-garde, genius-savant, but that's just around his brothers. Right now, he feels like nothing but an oddity. And Mikey pointing out his dysfunction is only deepening his self-consciousness and shame.

"C'mon out of here before you catch a scifi-nano-virus or something." Mikey shivers in disgust then tips his head and smiles, warm and with winning charm. Knowing exactly what he is doing the little imp.

Never the most violent of his brothers, Donatello is overwhelmed with the desire to beat him over the head, multiple times, with his bo. Instead, he stands there awkwardly, shooting a death glare from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Mikey catches the look and smirks, then sticks his tongue out at him. April glances at him and he quickly shifts where he stands and drops his gaze. Face burning. He never wished he was a single child more than at this moment.

"Food's gettin' cold, girl!"

April nods and holds up a finger. "Give me a sec."

"Sure thing. Anything for you. In fact, I'll warm up your plate so everything is toasty when you're ready. Mm-m! Thanks again for bringing the chow. You're an angel. Have I told you that recently? An angel."

Donnie rolls his eyes. But thankfully, Mikey leaves them in peace. There is a beat of awkward silence between them. He opens his mouth to apologize, still not really understanding what happened between them before Mikey's intrusion. But her hand raises and he snaps his mouth shut. She is not looking at him and he doesn't blame her.

When she speaks again, it is in a cold flat tone, "Before getting into journalism, I was majoring in Biomedical studies. I wanted to be a scientist. Like my father. I also took a few engineering courses, including Nanoelectromechanical Systems."

Her face turns. The look she gives him is challenging as if she is expecting him to scoff or laugh or question her for some reason. He blinks rapidly, processing what she's just told him. Biomedical studies. Nanoelectromechanical Systems. He knew she was smart. Never doubted it for a second. He could see it in her eyes, the way she'd stop and think before answering their questions, but this . . . this is more than he could hope for. Someone to talk to about things he's always accepted he'd be alone in.

Raph was only ever interested in the mechanics of vehicle engines, Leo endured his discussions of new technological devices only when it served as more security systems for their home or surveillance of the humans' activities that they lived in hiding from. Mikey only wanted new toys and Master Splinter's eyes turned glazed and distant whenever he tried to talk to him about anything related to their biology or new technology he was interested in. In a family full of outcasts, he alone, stood isolated from even them. Alone in his head. And he'd made the most of it. Until now. Until her. He fights the urge to pinch himself to see if this is all just a dream.

There so much he wants to ask. There's so much he is suddenly curious about. But that look on her face is a warning. He doesn't know why she is suddenly so aggressively defensive but understands he needs to be careful in his next response.

"What changed your mind?" he asks softly. Trying to keep his racing heartbeat out of his ears and the feeling of thrilling excitement from his face.

April's expression softens. She shrugs. "When my father's case remained open, after years and years of misplaced evidence and dead-end leads, and painfully obvious cover-ups, I decided to become a reporter. To help people. To have access to real information that could actually lead to answers. Maybe."

She shakes her head. "I dunno. Look where I'm at now." There is a note of despair in her voice that makes his heart stop. "Sacks will probably get off because of some blunder by the police, or some stupid evidence missing or lost. And it'll all be for nothing. He'll go free. And my dad," her voice cracks and she shakes her head. "'M sorry," she says and clears her throat, waving her fingers through the air. She moves to leave the room.

Without thinking, he reaches out and with the tip of his finger, snags her sleeve at the button. He holds it, pinched between finger and thumb. Afraid to let go. Afraid to dare to touch more of her. Anchoring her to the spot.

She glances down at his grasp then up into his eyes.

He braces for her to tell him to let her go. To unhand her. To keep his disgusting hands away from her. Internally he is wincing. But he holds her tearful gaze. Holds it. The world stops turning. The stars fall silent. The echoing train above becomes a sleeping beast. His brothers' loud voices dissipate like mist. He holds her gaze and does not drown, does not die. He holds it. Matches it. Dares to be her equal.

She does not flinch or cower. She does not shrink back at his forwardness. She is open and vulnerable. She allows him to see this. Permits it. Trusts him.

A tear rises and ripples over one cheek. In a bold move, he reaches with his free hand and dashes it away, barely touching the softness of her skin, enough to register the silken texture. Memorizing every cellular imperfection that makes her so beautiful. Stores it away to ponder the mysteries of it later.

"If Sacks goes free. We'll make it right," he promises. Thinking,  _whatever it takes._

It must show in his eyes because he sees something change in her gaze. A warmth. A gratitude, but also, there on the edges, something else. He feels as if he is suddenly being measured. As if she is seeing him for the first time. And he holds her gaze, still. Allowing the scrutiny. Opening himself to her judgment. And by the light in her blue eyes, he can see, she finds him acceptable.

 _Maybe_ , his troublesome heart whispers,  _something even more than simply acceptable._ Then immediately, his mind returns _, Don't be a presumptuous idiot._

She smiles and sniffs, closing her eyes and shattering the moment. Breaking the connection. He feels the loss like an electric current cutting through him, splitting his heart in half. It's all he can do not to gasp.

"Thank you," she murmurs and she means it, he can hear it in her tone.

She looks to the door and then just as he lets go of her sleeve, she twists her hand up to catch his fingers. His galloping heart is suddenly in his throat as her warm hand squeezes his for a moment before releasing him. "C'mon and get something to eat with me."

He nods mutely and follows her. He'd follow her anywhere. He can't help himself. There has been a threshold breach. An incipience of change. For something irreparable has happened to him. Some permanent chemical imbalance. Some unfathomable tipping of electro-magnetic scales. He isn't sure when it happened. Sometime between when he first laid his eyes on her and now. It is unexplainable and yet as fixed and firmly soldered as any electrical wiring to a circuit board. It is as frightening as it is exhilarating. And he knows, he would do anything for her.

What she most wants, he cannot grant. He can't bring her father back from the grave. No matter how fiercely he wishes for the power to do so, as irrational as it may sound, he does. But it is impossible. No science or alchemy can give her what was stolen all those years ago. But he and his brothers are ninja. They are trained to do what is necessary. To risk all for family. To strike hard and fade into the night.

All she needs to do is say the word. Or even just look at him.


End file.
